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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28784991">wish you were here</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CadetDru/pseuds/CadetDru'>CadetDru</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Time Travel, Arson, Dreams vs. Reality, Gen, Season/Series 03, Season/Series 05, Shooting, Time Travel Fix-It, difficult architecture, episode 100: you had to be there, episode 190: scavengers, just shoot him, murderous intent, tunnels, wandering</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:41:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,805</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28784991</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CadetDru/pseuds/CadetDru</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon walked around the tunnels where Georgie and Melanie had hidden themselves away.  He'd suffered enough in the tunnels, his blood probably staining some corners.  This wasn't precisely where it had all started, but things had been fairly well cemented within these walls.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Basira Hussain &amp; Melanie King, Elias Bouchard &amp; Gertrude Robinson, Georgie Barker &amp; Melanie King &amp; Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Martin Blackwood &amp; Melanie King, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>104</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. prologue: pacing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jon walked around the tunnels where Georgie and Melanie had hidden themselves away. He'd known this place before it all had gone to ruin.  He'd suffered enough in the tunnels, his blood probably staining some corners.  This wasn't precisely where it had all started, but things had been fairly well cemented within these walls. He walked on his own to give Martin a little breathing room.  They'd spent a lot of time together since the world had ended, and would be spending more together when it started up again.</p><p>He was still thinking of Martin as he wandered. He'd never been able to navigate the tunnels well, which was the entire point of them.  The one improvement for him was that there were no spiders in the corners this time.</p><p>He was out of the tunnels and into the section leading back up to his old office.  The cot was still there. It didn't show any signs of having been recently slept on which was a good sign. There was a notebook underneath it, looking more like one of Martin's than whatever Arun had been reading from.  </p><p>He kept walking towards what had been his office, knowing that he was risking the attention of the Eye focusing on him. He was concerned, but he was curious, and he had never found the right way to control his curiosity. The only thing to be done was to follow it through. He didn't want to put anyone else in jeopardy.  It could hardly hurt just to circle the room.</p><p>He walked through the old hallway, feeling something was off. The presence of the Eye wasn't there.  He couldn't feel or See anything from Martin or Georgie or the rest.  That just meant that they were still protected. </p><p>He opened the door hesitantly, gently watching it swing on its hinges. There was no horrifying Eye creature there.  Just Martin Blackwood reviewing some statements.  </p><p>Martin looked up at the sound of the door, lips parted to speak some apologetic syllables. He looked Jon over, eyes stopping on each scar, the tangled hair, the overall essence of the Eye's prized pupil. In the blink of a supernatural eye, Martin was jumping to his feet, knocking papers off the desk.  "Where have you been, what's happened?" and other sentiments were quickly expressed before "I'm fine, what day is it?" could be understood. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. chapter one: introductions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jon took a seat in the visitor's chair while Martin got him a cup of tea. It was like magic how Martin appeared and disappeared. Jon wasn’t used to tracking Martin’s movements in the old way. The look of concern on Martin’s face was familiar enough. The tea was made just the way that he always took it, the way he liked it because it meant Martin was near. It was the best cup of tea that Jon had ever had.  He told Martin as much, expressing his sincere gratitude for the simple gesture.</p><p>"Where have you been?" Martin said, taking a seat across the desk. "You look like hell."</p><p>"Well, it's a little difficult to say,” Jon said, not sure how to fully explain himself. “Hell is one word for it, though."</p><p>"Well, it's been an absolute mess here," Martin said, waving at the papers scattered on the desk.</p><p>"What day is it?" Jon said, setting his tea down on a clear space.  </p><p>"May 19," Martin said.</p><p>Jon cleared his throat. "What year?"</p><p>"It's 2017," Martin said. He laughed a little. "It has been for months.  Jon, what's wrong?"</p><p>"I'm not Jon,” Jon said.  “I mean, I’m not Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.”</p><p>Martin exhaled sharply, straightening the desk.  "Alright, sounds like it's statement time."</p><p>"Just like that?" Jon said, glancing at the tape recorder.  It wasn't shivering in anticipation that he could tell but it seemed only a matter of time.  </p><p>"I'm tired, Jo... Stranger." Martin winced. "It's been a hell of a time with you... with the Archivist gone."</p><p>"Kidnapped," Jon corrected.</p><p>"I'm sorry?" Martin said.</p><p>"Jon, your Jon, the Archivist, he's been kidnapped."</p><p>"Jesus," Martin said. "What...what can I do, what can we do?" He was ready to run out the door and rescue his man.  It warmed Jon’s heart to see.</p><p>"It'll resolve itself," Jon said hesitantly.  The worst of it was upon his old self: the only way out was through.  Jon didn't know how they would be able to rescue his doomed past self.</p><p>Martin's voice all but disappeared. "You kidnapped him and stole his face?"</p><p>"No, it's not like that..." Jon said. "It's more complicated." </p><p>"Like I said, statement time," Martin said.  “What’s your name?” His voice didn't waver, his words were made out of steel. There wasn't even a whisper of Compulsion behind it. He hadn't read enough statements. He couldn't run away, not without using the corkscrew he had on his person, but he wasn't given over to the Eye or the Lonely yet. He might be able to be saved.  He would want Jon saved.  </p><p>"Jonathan Sims," Jon said. He wasn't supernaturally forced to tell the truth, he just didn't want to lie to Martin.  He couldn't bear the idea.</p><p>"But not my-- our Jonathan Sims?" Martin was stammering and blushing and displaying a number of signs of discomfort.</p><p>"No. He's not gone or anything. I've not replaced him.  I know where he is and what's happened to him."</p><p>"What's happened?" Martin said.  </p><p>"Lotion, mostly." Jon swallowed down his bad memories. "I'm Jonathan Sims, and I'm from the future.  One that I hope I can help you avoid." </p><p>Martin hit record on the tape recorder on his desk. "Statement begins," he said.</p><p>Jon found himself rambling.  Instead of the neat narrative he normally channeled, he was struggling to give the right sequence of events. He focused on the wrong details, trying to carefully not give too much away.  He didn't want to distract the sentimental statement-taker before him. </p><p>
  <span>"What happens to me?" Martin said, interrupting to get Jon to stay on one thought.  "You haven’t said anything about me.  I know Jon, my Jon… I know he doesn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon faltered to a stop, having skirted around the one point that was sticking out. "Do you love him?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin hit the stop button again, his fingers lingering on the little machine. Either he hit the button again or the recorder started itself back up. "Why would you think that, why would you ask, how does that even matter right now?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's just... it seems more real, more immediate.  I was just curious if you loved him yet or if it's still to come."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yet?" Martin said softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sorry, you wanted a proper statement," Jon said, focusing his gaze on the wall that he could see just past Martin's shoulder. "Where was I?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yet," Martin said.  It didn't help Jon get his train of thought back on the right set of tracks.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You might be able to get away," Jon said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yet?” Martin said again, a record stuck on one word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're with me, in the future. I was just with you, and I went through the tunnels without you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I left you behind," Martin said. "My past. Your long-ago past. I ran ahead, I never meant to."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, no, it's okay," Jon said, reaching to take Martin's hand. "I made it through. I know you didn't mean... you'd never do that on purpose."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You said yet," Martin said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon pressed his lips together. "You're with me and you're safe." He sighed. "You... your future self... he's my boyfriend." He smiled at his own words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin's jaw nearly dropped.  "You're kidding."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know it's not something you're interested in, now. You wouldn't."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't know anything about me," Martin said. "Why would you-- how do you know?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I should start again," Jon said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin shook his head, giving up on the whole idea. "Statement ends."</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. chapter two: staccato</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Melanie popped her head into the office to let Martin know she was leaving early.  She all but snarled when she saw Jon sitting there. "You're back then." She looked him over. “You look like hell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am hell,” Jon intoned, drawing upon as much of his eldritch Eye powers available to him in this time and place.  It wasn’t much; neither of the archival assistants so much as batted an eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn't our Jon,” Martin said, standing up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't have a Jon,” Melanie said. “None of us do right now, but I especially don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm not Martin's Jon either. I'm from the future.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melanie nodded, and bodily turned away from him.  Her attention was focused on Martin alone. “He's not real.  Whatever he told you, it’s not real,” Melanie said.  “This is just like when Sasha was replaced.  Once again, I’m the only one who can see it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can see it. The eyes are all wrong,” Martin said, looking back and forth between the two. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have no idea,” Jon said.  “Where and when I come from... The world’s ended. And it’s my fault.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds ambitious,” Melanie said, still looking at Martin. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorframe.  She was effectively blocking the only real exit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon drummed his fingers on the desk. “The options here are that time is a closed loop and this doesn’t matter and you two just never mentioned this to me.” He tapped one fingertip.  “Or time is more flexible and I can actually change things.” He tapped two fingertips. “Or this is some kind of dream I’m having in the tunnels because of...guilt.” He tapped three fingertips in a rapid staccato.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melanie uncrossed her arms, hitting her thighs with clenched fists.  “Why would you possibly feel any guilt towards the two of us?” Melanie said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We had dropped by to visit with you and your girlfriend. The world’s ended but you and she are safe because... Well, you're safe.” Jon tapped three fingers on the desk.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So why would you feel guilty?” Melanie said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re trapped here because of me,” Jon said, tapping one finger on the desk. “More than Martin even. You’d never have come here if Georgie hadn’t recommended it, and she only did that because she trusted my judgment for some reason.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She doesn’t have the best taste in men,” Melanie said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Much better taste in women,” Jon said immediately. The statement was innocuous enough, given their situation, if he didn’t immediately wince. “I didn’t...she isn’t…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no,” Melanie said. “No, you can’t just come in here and smirk about something like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin craned his neck to try to look at Melanie’s face. “What am I missing?” he asked.  They ignored him: Melanie because she was focused on Jon and Jon because he didn’t know how to begin to explain it all to Martin.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s this ‘we’ you’re referring to?” Melanie asked Jon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My boyfriend and I,” Jon said, picking up where his thoughts had trailed off. He tapped two fingers on the desk.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you and your boyfriend dropped by to see me and my girlfriend.  How cosy.” The words sounded like the direst threat and filthiest curse coming out of her mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was. It is. He’s always liked you and I’ve always liked Georgie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melanie bit her tongue.  “This is some kind of trick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what to do without him here,” Jon said to himself, one finger slowly dragging on the desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s beautifully codependent, horrifying nightmare man,”  Melanie said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Elias is going to know I'm here now, he's watching you,” Jon said, tapping just two fingers on the desk again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s watching me?” Melanie said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of the three of us, only you.” Jon leaned back in the chair and sighed. “Martin's not a threat and I'm invisible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Martin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are a threat,” Jon said, his voice soft and sad. “I promise you that. He underestimates you. We all do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Martin said, his voice mingled embarrassment and fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to give a statement. I need to… I don’t know what I need to do.  I need… I was traveling with someone. With my boyfriend, actually.  And I need to get back to him, bring him here or...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Open, closed, or imaginary,” Martin said, leaning towards the desk just enough to tap his fingers in quick sequence: one, two, three.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melanie nodded. “Well, I’m going to go get drunk somewhere else. Martin, have fun with the spooky horror.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melanie exhaled. "Be safe."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin shut the door behind her and locked it.  “Is Elias really coming?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know.  I can’t… I won’t reach out to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Martin said. “Let’s try the statement again.” He was still standing, still looming as best he could as he hit the record button. “Statement begins.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. chapter three: quiet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jon and the past Martin were locked in Jon’s office in the Archives. Jon had finished giving as much of a statement as he could, as linear a narrative of the intervening time between Martin’s experiences and Jon’s own. Jon sunk his skinny body into the somewhat comfortable chair.  He didn’t plan on getting up.  He was going to wait it out. Reality would come to him. “I can't leave this room,” he said aloud.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin was staring at him from across the desk, waiting to see what he would do next. “I don’t think you can hide from the dystopian future by staying in our office.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?” Jon asked, verging into a whine. "It's quiet here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin sputtered.  “We need the space.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.  Sorry.” Jon rolled together different syllables, different ways to ask if he could hide at Martin’s without saying “can I come home with you?” which would spark a whole new conversation that he was really trying to avoid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The world won’t end any faster if you walk out this door,” Martin said, tapping the desk with his index finger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It might,” Jon said.  He wasn’t whining, but there was a certain pleading quality to his voice that he didn’t like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Assuming what you’re saying is true, I don’t think you’re having any effect on the timeline at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and Melanie know I’m here,” Jon said. “That’s a change.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We aren’t…” Martin took a deep breath, steadied his voice. “We’re inconsequential.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not to me,” Jon said.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin closed his eyes. There was a knock at the door before he could say anything.   He got up to unlock the door. “Elias,” he said as the man pushed past him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Martin, I understand we have some kind of visitor,” Elias said briskly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some kind, yes,” Jon agreed.  He got to his feet. “Hello.” He didn’t know what name to use, so he didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello Jon,” Elias said, looking him over.  Jon could feel the unfortunately familiar weight of his gaze. “Or, not quite Jon.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Call me the Archives,” Jon said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The…” Elias grinned. “Oh, this is too good.  And so far ahead of schedule.” He didn’t actually check his watch, but his fingers twitched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t that worry you?” Jon asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should it?” Elias said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon looked at Martin. “Things aren’t...prepared.  People, your people aren’t prepared.  I’m here to fix it.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, really?” Elias said. “I appreciate your diligence, Archives.  I’ve waited a long time for someone as focused as you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon let a faint smile drift over his face.  “There’s still a lot of work that I need to do.  I need to go. I’ll see myself out,” Jon said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That might be for the best,” Elias agreed. “All the same, Martin, will you please show this mysterious stranger the door?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Elias,” Martin said. “I got his statement already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Martin. I don’t know how we’d get by without you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The dead bodies would remain hidden for a bit longer,” Jon said, before realizing that he might be calling attention to Martin’s abilities. “And they’d be sullying your wonderful institute,” he added, trying to recover.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elias smirked and shook his head.  “Martin does have a way of finding things out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon didn’t actually snarl, just let his lip twitch into a momentary sneer as Elias walked away. Martin lingered over his notes and Jon lingered over Martin.  “Come on,” Jon said when the sound of footsteps had faded away. He charged out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is the wrong direction,” Martin said, trailing behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to go down, not up,” Jon said. “I just need to get back to the tunnels and I will have everything back on track.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll come with you,” Martin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Jon snapped. “You need to stay here. You should be...safe here. Or safer than you have been previously. If I get back to the tunnels, then I might be able to...save the world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin’s smile turned into a soft laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t take you with me.  If I do things right, we’ll… it’ll be fine.” He reached for Martin’s hand. “I’ll come back for you. I will always come back for you.  I will get off my deathbed with your name on my lips and come back for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fear shining in Martin’s eyes was enough to blind them both.  He was afraid of Jon.  Jon had gone back too far and not far enough.  He dropped Martin’s hand. “I’m sorry,” Martin said, because apologies always came easily to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Jon said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin sighed heavily, shoulders drooping. “Don’t get too lost, Jon.” He turned and walked away while Jon stumbled on. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. chapter four: retracing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jon left Martin and the Institute of his past behind.  He walked through the tunnels.  Any minute, he’d run into Georgie’s cultists. He waited for the sound of poetry to come over him.  He got lost, again, wandered his way back, traced his steps again.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d come back up too far, was back into the Institute’s proper holdings.  It was the horrid little temporary residence that Martin had maintained for far too long. The cot was there, and Martin was lying on it. It was not the Martin who had been walking through the fearscape with Jon, the Martin who had been daydreaming of destroying Jonah Magnus. Sentimental as he was, he wouldn’t return to that spot.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon's breath caught in his throat.  Martin sat up with a start.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's just me,” Jon said quickly, his back to the wall and both palms facing towards Martin. “Sorry, I didn't think you were down here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where else would I be?” Martin said, moving his thin blanket over his legs before looking up. His face fell as he looked at Jon.  “What happened to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too much,” Jon said thickly. “I could make a statement if you like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’ve given my own and that’s more than enough for me,” Martin said. He rolled his neck. “Well, I'm awake.  Tea?” Martin offered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That'd be...Lovely.  Yes.” Jon looked away as Martin got dressed. He followed Martin to the little kitchenette.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is my first night down here, and you scared the life out of me,” Martin said, one hand pressed to his chest.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, God, Martin, I’m so sorry.”  If it was the first night, then Martin didn’t have his corkscrew to defend himself.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you really? I just saw Jon a few hours ago. He set me up down here. He doesn’t look like you do.  You’re something from a statement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Jon from the future.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin laughed. “That’s funny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have all kinds of jokes to tell you,” Jon said. It wasn’t supposed to be a flirtation.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The man that you resemble does not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And his eyes aren’t green,” Jon said. It was in his catalog of things that he had lost to Jonah’s marks.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin’s smooth brow briefly wrinkled.  “Aren’t they?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon wasn’t sure what to say.  He watched as Martin fiddled with sugar and milk.  He didn’t catch the right proportions.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those scars…” Martin started to say as he stirred.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which ones?” Jon said lightly. There were many to choose from and any one of them was </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They look like…” Martin said, trailing off.  He handed Jon his cup of tea, made just as Jon always expected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your worms,” Jon finished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin shuddered. “The future, you said?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon nodded and sipped his too-hot tea. “I’m here to make sure no one gets hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just psychological damage so far,” Martin said. The level of bitterness he was already able to hit was surprising. “Or are you only concerned with particular people’s pain?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not driving this thing, I literally stumbled onto it. If I can keep Jane away from you, I will.  If I could chase her away from your door, I will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walked back to Martin’s little home.  As they passed Jon’s office, Jon said:  “I can give a full statement. I tried earlier...later… I tried.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s Jon’s thing, not really mine,” Martin said. “I don’t think he’d like it if I tried.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin sat on the cot.  Jon stood with his back to the wall.  Jon tried to find the right words to explain himself and his presence.  “I haven’t found a statement yet anything like this,” Martin said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you written any poems about him yet?” Jon asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Martin said, affronted to his core.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jonathan Sims. Head Archivist, et cetera,” Jon said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would I write any poems about him?” Martin stammered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, but I know you do,” Jon said. “I’ve read them.  He’ll read them.  I didn’t know… I didn’t recognize myself. Long after you moved out of here, I thought to wonder what it had been like for you. I found some of your poems, and… They’re good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The main thing that makes me believe that you’re real is that I don’t care about Jon and he doesn’t care about me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Things change. I hope they all change.  I hope we can stop everything that makes me go from the horrible man who took your statement into the man-shaped Archives before you now.”  He tapped his index finger on the rim of his cup.  “Time is a closed loop, or it’s flexible, or this is someone’s dream.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Martin said slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The good thing is I think I’m back far enough that you might even be able to just walk away from all of this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds good,” Martin said.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish Elias had never given you this job,” Jon said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin flushed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t mean it like that,” Jon said. “I care about you.  The you from my time and...you.  God, thirteen days of that nightmare and you’re here making me tea.  You deserve so much better than the Magnus Institute, than the Archives.” Jon’s lip curled into a sad smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin didn’t respond.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going back in time. I can prevent Gertrude’s murder.  Leitner’s too, but as long as I’m not getting framed for it… I can keep going.  If Gertrude lives, then Elias will never make you an archival assistant and you won’t be trapped down here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, wouldn’t break my heart if I’d not been transferred over here. I didn’t even apply. Elias just said it would be for the best.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon finished his tea.  “Alright, I’m off. Wish me luck.” He set his cup down by Martin’s cot. He didn’t hug Martin, brush the hair off his face, kiss him, or initiate any other kind of contact.  Instead he hovered around Martin, passively indicating his desire for physical contact through proximity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good luck,” Martin said.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. chapter five: acquaintance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jon wasn't back to the cult. He'd left the mostly homeless archival assistant behind to write poetry about how bad he thought his life was. It was quite possibly the worst time of Martin's life up to that point, the start of a long fall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melanie-- an angry, sighted Melanie-- greeted him. "I thought you'd still be down here,” she said harshly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I made it away..." Jon said, immediately trailing off as he looked over his shoulder at nothing in particular.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melanie nodded. “Sure you did.  Just had to come back?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I went the wrong way, ended up back before you were here," Jon said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, the good old days,” she said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Footsteps came down from where Melanie had come.  “Who are you talking to?” Basira asked, before she came into Jon’s line of sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Melanie crossed her arms.  Basira’s arms hung loosely at her sides. “I told you,” Melanie said in a sing-song.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t say I didn’t believe you’d seen something,” Basira said. She dropped her voice. “Who is it? What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it isn’t Jon,” Melanie said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t actually narrow it down,” Basira said. “Most people and monsters aren’t Jon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did ask,” Melanie said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi. Sorry. I’m Basira. You met Melanie and Martin yesterday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Jon said. “And Melanie’s wrong, I am Jon.  Just… from the future. A very bad future.  You both live to see it, though, so you’ll experience it for yourself if I can’t figure this out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Future Jon,” Basira said with a slight smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He looks half dead,” Melanie said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds right for Jon,” Basira said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melanie lifted her chin, a curt nod to Jon. “So did you walk away from my dinner party again or have you not found your way back?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will find my way back,” Jon said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As long as you believe in yourself,” Melanie said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or I’ll find a way to change it all, save us all, and there won’t be anywhere for me to get back to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That does sound like a victory,” Melanie said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’ll come with us, sir,” Basira said, her voice strong and even.  “I understand Martin took your statement yesterday, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You still have some inquiries?” Jon said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are sounding a bit...police about it all,” Melanie said quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Old habits die hard,” Basira said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should talk to Daisy about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melanie laid her hand on Basira’s forearm.  Basira hadn’t so much as breathed, hadn’t started to move towards Jon, hadn’t twitched a muscle. “He’s trying to get a rise out of us,” Melanie said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The two of you will make it through the Unknowing.  Tim will die.  I will die.  Sasha is dead. Gertrude is dead. I need to go back far enough to stop anyone from dying, to change this all.  Otherwise, Elias will win.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Basira and Melanie made eye contact. “Oh, yeah, we have to listen to him or Elias will win,” Melanie mumbled. “It’s creepy down here, let’s go back up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Basira walked ahead and Melanie walked behind Jon.  “It’s not that creepy. Martin hasn’t found a dead body in ages,” Jon said.  Basira chuckled softly. “As far as I know, there aren’t any others.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yet,” Melanie said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me or Elias?” Jon asked, half-turning to ask her over his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, why not both?” Melanie said, her voice too close to Jon.  He didn’t hyperventilate. She wasn’t going to kill him, no knife about to slide between the ribs that he had left.  She wasn’t a killer, for all of her failed attempts on Elias. She wasn’t actually going to hurt him. She wasn’t that far gone yet. This was just the start of her decline. She’d map it out with Laverne at some point in the future; using veiled terms to communicate the depths of her anger and violence to her surprisingly approachable therapist.  But she wasn’t there yet.  He knew that she wasn’t.  He couldn’t Know it for a certainty, in this time and place with this person, but he had his earned knowledge of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If it was Daisy behind him, he’d be dead already. Basira wouldn’t.  Basira had to trust Melanie to keep herself in check.  Jon could trust them, because he had made himself and because they had earned it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like some tea?” Basira offered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will it be poisoned?” Jon asked, eyes darting towards Melanie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Basira said patiently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In fact, I’m sure we can ask very nicely and Martin will make it just the way you like it.” Melanie knocked on the Archivist’s office door.  Jon turned away and winced.  She opened the door at the lack of an answer. “Oh, he’s not in.  Perfect. Please, do come in, Mr. Sims.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon sat down in the visitor’s chair.  Basira sat behind the desk, looking down at the clutter instead of at him. “Martin must have gone for lunch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’ll understand,” Melanie said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Basira nodded, looking at Melanie then Jon. “Right. Let’s start from the top.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. chapter six: reintroduction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The post-apocalyptic Jon returned to the tunnels, followed by a trio of vintage archival assistants from 2017. “This is a terrible idea,” he said. “I don’t think that anyone but me can even do whatever this is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you’re special,” Basira said flatly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I agree,” Melanie said harshly.  “Keep walking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, this is the closest I’ve ever come to being able to navigate these things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Martin said softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not your fault,” Jon said reflexively. “You don’t need to keep apologizing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melanie sighed, shaking her head. "No relationship discussions."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We weren't," Martin started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d better not be trying to trick us,” Basira said to Jon, raising her voice just enough to cut over any cross conversations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What a threat,” Melanie said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do the tunnels seem different to anyone else?” Martin asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Basira!” prophet Melanie called down the tunnel. “Is that you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who the hell was that?” past Melanie said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s with you?” prophet Melanie said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got lost, found some people,” Jon shouted down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melanie of the ruined world came up. “Basira, I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t know Jon and Martin were wandering around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Melanie…” past Basira started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I haven't seen you since I quit," the prophet Melanie said. Her smile reached where her eyes had been. "Sorry.  Gallows humor."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Melanie, this isn’t…this is Basira from May 2017,” Jon said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Oh, God,” prophet Melanie said. "I'm sorry."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Martin Blackwood and Melanie King from 2017,” Jon said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” past Martin trilled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Jesus,” prophet Melanie said. “You’re just collecting them now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s this?” past Basira said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Melanie King from the future,” Jon said. “Prophet, Savior.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jon, I swear to God,”  prophet Melanie said. He took her elbow.  The five of them were crowded in the cramped tunnel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could kill him for you,” past Melanie offered. "It'll be easy.  I've got some ideas."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s really keen on the idea,” past Martin said. “I’d really rather not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, thank you,”  prophet Melanie said. “Jon, why are you breaking the tunnels and time and space?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to go back in time and kill Jurgen Leitner myself,” Jon said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why be framed for murder when you can do the murder?” prophet Melanie said. She shook Jon off, batting his hand away from her arm.  "I understand the drive, but I don't think it'd work."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or save Gertrude Robinson from Jonah shooting her while she tried to burn down the Archives.  We can even burn them down for her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, just a murder and arson party.” prophet Melanie said. Martin smiled slightly at the idea of </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anti-murder, technically,” Jon said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could murder Jonah,” past Melanie said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I miss you,” prophet Melanie said</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what happened?” Basira asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The prophet Melanie sighed. “I quit the Institute and then the world ended.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that--” Basira started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melanie turned to her. “Just keep an open mind on this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay," past Basira said slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s one way to quit," prophet Melanie intoned. Jon huffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No," past Basira said quickly. "Jon, you were explaining yourself?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Right," Jon said, clapping his hands together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, I think I know how to navigate to get...back in time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know or do you Know?” prophet Melanie asked, emphasising the capital-K Know as much as she could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither," Jon said, almost in her ear. "Just a hunch."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jon, you cannot just drag sweet, innocent archival assistants from their perfectly manageable misery into this living nightmare. What if they get stuck here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They wanted to come.  Melanie threatened me.” Jon said, waving an unseen arm towards the angry woman he'd once known.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These aren’t the people who need rescuing," the prophet Melanie said.  "I remember Sasha.  Both Sashas.  She didn’t make it. Tim didn’t make it. That’s who needs you. I know that Basira’s okay, Martin told me so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your flock would welcome more prophets,” Jon said lightly.  He leaned against the wall behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, I hope not.  Do you want me to get Martin to travel with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon didn't look at the past Martin already with him.  He did pause for too long than seemed appropriate. “Is he sleeping?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melanie hesitated. “If I let you leave without him, he’ll kill me. And he can be pretty bloodthirsty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right," past Martin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He wouldn't hurt anyone," Jon said.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is that the problem?" Melanie gave a breathy laugh. "I'll be back, if I can find the way, and the whole gang can set off."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you coming with us?" past Melanie asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"God no. I've got my role to play here. You lot can do whatever you see fit.  Let me go get Jon's plus one." She turned back the way she came.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do we want to unpack whatever that just was?" past Martin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nope," past Melanie said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not particularly," past Basira said, leaning against a wall across from Jon. "I think we're going to keep working towards a future where it doesn't come to pass."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She seemed pretty relaxed," past Martin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Gallows humor on a global scale."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I wonder what you'll be like," past Melanie said to Martin.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Stunningly handsome and suave," past Martin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, of course," past Melanie said. "That goes without saying, I think."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Basira laughed, then sighed.  "Let's just find our way out of here, and out of this all, and none of it will ever have happened." </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. chapter seven: single or double file</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jon and his Martin from the ruined world walked down the tunnels, followed by Martin, Melanie, and Basira from May 2017. Martin kept his voice down so the past assistants wouldn't hear his words. "I'm just saying, you might not be thinking clearly.You don't seem tired, but… do you remember Upton House?"</p><p>"No," Jon said. He ran his fingers along the wall.</p><p>"That's my point," Martin said. "You weren't yourself there."</p><p>"Do you remember this, Martin?" Jon said. He waved his hand vaguely towards those behind him, trying to keep it out of their line of sight.</p><p>"Not even a little," Martin said.</p><p>"Do you remember your first night in Archives?" Jon said. "After Prentiss."</p><p>"Yes, vividly,"Martin said. He wasn't shuddering or shivering with fear, he was long past that. "I don't think I slept more than thirty minutes."</p><p>"Was I there?" Jon said.</p><p>"No, Jon, I, uh…" Martin said. Jon wasn't looking directly at him, so he couldn't see him blushing. "I'd have remembered that."</p><p>"So, time is either closed--" Jon said.</p><p>"He keeps saying that," past Melanie said, cutting in.</p><p>"Melanie, please," Martin said sharply. He stopped to glare at her. </p><p>"Really," she said. "Really, this is what the future holds for you."</p><p>Jon started walking again without a word.Melanie hung back to rejoin her two.</p><p>"Jon, why are they here?" Martin said.</p><p>"They wanted to help," Jon said. "Or didn't believe me."</p><p>"And that's why he's here," Martin said.</p><p>"You're not allowed to be jealous of yourself," Jon said.</p><p>"Yes, I am," Martin said. "He's younger and prettier than me."</p><p>Jon's laugh was loud enough to echo. "You can't be serious." His voice was too loud.</p><p>Martin overcorrected for Jon's volume. "I'm allowed a little irrationality when you're introducing even more difficulties into our lives."</p><p>"Martin, if it helps, I think you're prettier than him," Jon said. "The apocalypse suits you.You're very rugged."</p><p>"Look at his hair!"Martin said.</p><p>"Yes, he's adorable," Jon said.</p><p>"See?" Martin said.</p><p>"I wasn't going to run off with him," Jon said.</p><p>Martin laughed. "No, you'd rounded up a whole Scooby gang to disguise it."</p><p>"Are you really worried?" Jon said.</p><p>"I'm worried that they're real. I'm not worried that you're trading me in for a younger and less exhausted model.I'm worried that one even exists. I don't remember this.What does that mean? What does it mean for us?"</p><p>"It means I love you.No matter what model."</p><p>"Okay, that specific phrasing is not working for me."</p><p>"Fair enough."</p><p>Martin reached out and squeezed Jon's hand. "I'm going to check on the crew."</p><p>Jon nodded and picked up the pace.Martin stood in everyone else's way.Past Basira and Melanie were ahead of past Martin who seemed to be deliberately dragging his feet.</p><p>"Hi," Martin said.</p><p>"No," Melanie said.</p><p>"Sorry?" Martin said.</p><p>"Basira and I are having a conversation about bands we listened to when we were young and stupid."</p><p>"Time travel has made us very nostalgic," Basira explained. </p><p>"We are trying very hard not to get involved in whatever triangle you have going," past Melanie said. "You seem nice enough and we wish the best for you but we are very interested in anything but this."</p><p>"Right, I think I understand," Martin said. "It's a lot to process.This part is new to me now."</p><p>"This is exactly what I was talking about," past Melanie said.</p><p>"Sorry," Martin said. He moved out of their way so they could deliberately catch up with Jon.</p><p>"Hi," Martin said.</p><p>"Hello," his past self said. </p><p>Martin walked side by side with him. He was getting used to being able to walk and talk to himself."How are you?" Martin said.</p><p>Past Martin laughed. "Apparently travelling through time by wandering around weird architecture with my boss and…"</p><p>"And his boyfriend," Martin supplied.</p><p>It was hard to maintain eye contact while they walked, which was a relief to them both. "Yeah."</p><p>"You think this is a dream," Martin said.</p><p>"I might have fallen asleep at my desk."</p><p>"I don't know. I don't remember this."</p><p>"Is that what a dream would say?" past Martin asked.</p><p>"I guess so."</p><p>"So.You have an official boyfriend.How's that working out for you?"</p><p>"Jon's gone through a lot since… where did you come from?" Martin said.</p><p>"May 20, 2017. My Jon, our Jon is missing. I should be doing something to save him."</p><p>"You are," Martin said. "This is all you can do."</p><p>"He tried to give a statement. He told me a lot."</p><p>"Christ," Martin said. "Yeah, things got worse.He got worse for a while. Worse than the stalking days, then everything was briefly got better, then the world ended. </p><p>"So where did this come in?"</p><p>"That's the part where it was briefly better," Martin said. "There were walks on the beach and a little cottage in Scotland…"</p><p>"Are you happy?" past Martin asked.</p><p>"With him, not with the world," Martin said. "He's letting me borrow his lighter."</p><p>"What lighter?"</p><p>"Don't start," Martin said.He got a gold lighter out of his pocket."It seems safer if I just carry the damn thing. I used it further along your timeline tohurt Jonah."</p><p>"You set Jonah on fire?"</p><p>"No, just some statements," Martin said.</p><p>"Well, that's alright then."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. chapter eight: reabsorption</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What happens if we run into Jurgen Leitner? Or Jonah?" Martin asked Jon, loudly.Everyone else glared at him.</p><p>"I think we're loud enough that Leitner can hide," past Martin said. </p><p>"There's no sense in us trying to be sneaky."</p><p>"Pipe murder is the classic approach, isn't it?" Jon said. "Worked once."</p><p>"It's bad enough that I found the body, I don't want to be the one who generates it," Martin said. "You could Ceaseless Watcher them."</p><p>"I really don't think I can.</p><p>"That is convenient," past Melanie said. "Whatever it is."</p><p>Footsteps from the front, someone walking towards them. "Does anyone even have a pipe?" past Martin said.</p><p>"It's just Elias," past Melanie said.</p><p>"Look, Jon, we've picked up another one!" Martin said brightly.</p><p>"Who are you?" Elias asked.</p><p>"Martin Blackwood."</p><p>"No, the man cowering behind the corpse that looks like Jon is Martin Blackwood."</p><p>Jon tried for a smile. "Just passing through, Mr. Bouchard. Don't mind us."</p><p>"What year is it?" Martin asked. </p><p>"2017. And you're that bizarre stranger who came around yesterday."</p><p>"Jon, we've come back," Martin said.</p><p>"Right," Jon snapped.</p><p>"At least we've come back from doomsday," past Melanie said. </p><p>"Why don't we all go back up where we belong, hmm?" past Elias said.</p><p>"He's right," past Basira said.</p><p>"Really?" Melanie snapped.</p><p>"Really," Basira said. "We should let the nice spooky men go do whatever they were doing. It doesn't concern us. Elias, we'll follow you."</p><p>"Go ahead first. No goodbye kisses, just go with your coworkers," Elias said.</p><p>"Really?" Martin said. </p><p>Elias smirked at them and left.</p><p>"They're safe," Jon said. "Elias can't and won't kill all of them. Or any of them. He needs them."</p><p>"He only needs Martin," Martin said."The backup archivist." He sighed. "We're going around in circles. Let's either go back in time or back to the poetry reading."</p><p>"I think we broke the poet," Jon said.</p><p>"I think he's going to fuel that into his art," Martin said. "Great odes to the nightmare striders that somehow exclude us."</p><p>"You're just making friends all over the tunnels," Jon said.</p><p>"I hate them."</p><p>"I'm sorry," Jon said.</p><p>"My kingdom for a gun right about now."</p><p>"You don't have a kingdom," Jon said.</p><p>"I'll get one just to give it away. Where are we going?"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. chapter nine: encounter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was the sound of something being poured ahead of them.</p><p>"Is that--" Martin started to ask. Jon shushed him quickly. The two of the, had been traveling long enough, had known each other long enough, to anticipate reactions and forgive certain slights. </p><p>Jon went ahead of Martin."Gertrude?" he called.</p><p>"Who or what are you?" the woman called back. She didn't acknowledge the name that he used. Given names didn't have as much power as people thought. </p><p>Jon could still give the proper role for them both. "You're the Archivist. I'm the Archives."</p><p>"Then why do you look like the snide little researcher?"</p><p>Jon tried not to be too defensive. "I am him, just plus some time."</p><p>She was smirking at him, this old woman with a gasoline can. "The Eye used you then?"</p><p>It was too true to be worth answering. "Elias is going to kill you.And Leitner."</p><p>She shook her head. "Elias would never do anything himself.He would send someone like you."</p><p>"We're just here to help you burn it all down," Martin said, walking towards them from behind Jon.</p><p>"You work here too," she said.</p><p>Martin nodded. "Library, in your time."</p><p>She looked them over. "Here to help?"</p><p>"I'm sure you have lots of questions..." Jon said.</p><p>"And I'm sure you'll tell me whatever you need me to know."</p><p>"I don't... can you compel us down here?" Martin said.</p><p>Gertrude narrowed her eyes. "Does it in fact matter, young librarian?"</p><p>"If you want to know that we're telling the truth," Martin said.</p><p>"Whatever you can tell me will belong to the Eye already," Gertrude said.</p><p>"Let us help you," Jon begged. "We need to stop Jonah's ritual before it ever begins. You know that it can't be turned back, once one actually succeeds."</p><p>"I haven't had any difficulty stopping any of these others."</p><p>"Jonah isn't only using the Eye. He's smarter than the others.Than Lukas and his joke of a ritual."</p><p>"Please, Archives, do tell me how smart and brave and vile your master is."</p><p>"That isn't fair," Martin said.</p><p>"That is accurate," Jon said, overlapping him.</p><p>"We need to kill Elias," Martin said. "He's the real problem."</p><p>"Martin!" Jon said.</p><p>"Now," Gertrude asked.</p><p>"Now. A hundred years ago. It will never be too soon, only too late. "</p><p>"Martin." Jon said.</p><p>"We can find his body, Jonah's body, down there. We can destroy it, and possibly... or we can kill Elias.Or we could just blind him."</p><p>"Martin." Jon said.</p><p>"We need to take him out while he is weak.You're so much stronger than him. He's going to kill you to take care of the problem."</p><p>"Well, you're certainly a true believer," Gertrude said.</p><p>"We need to kill him first, then take out the Institute."</p><p>"You're seem assured of your safety," Gertrude said.</p><p>"When he was...is... will be? He has a problem reading down here, and he's never seen my thoughts as being worth looking into except to hurt Jon." Martin took a deep breath. "And right now, Jon is the snide researcher and I'm the quiet unqualified one in the back of the library.There's nothing to look for. We should kill him."</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. chapter ten: contribution</h2></a>
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    <p>Gertrude still wanted to burn down the Institute.  Jon was trying to talk her out of it.  Martin just wanted to kill Elias first.</p><p>"You can't kill someone in cold blood," Jon said. He was addressing Martin rather than Gertrude. He didn't want to ask if she'd done so before.  </p><p>"It's Elias.  Jonah.  Whoever.  It's not cold blood, I promise you."</p><p>"Martin--" Jon said.</p><p>"This is about where I found your body," Martin said to Gertrude.  "There's a recorder here somewhere.  It'll record your death, when he gets here.  He'll be coming soon and we can get the drop on him."</p><p>"Is that enough?" Gertrude asked. </p><p>"We'll find out.  He's going to shoot you otherwise.  We'll get the gun.  Do you want to shoot him or should I?"  Martin said, focusing only on Gertrude.</p><p>"I think I might like to do it myself, but if you get the opportunity, please take it."</p><p>Martin nodded.  "Thank you," he said, his voice high and his eyes filling with unshed tears. "He won't get away with it."</p><p>"Get away with what?" Elias asked, walking towards them.</p><p>"The ritual," Martin said. "The sacrifices."</p><p>"You're confused, Martin," Elias said.  "And out of your comfort zone.  Why are you down here?"</p><p>"I'm not the Martin Blackwood you know.  And he's not your researcher.  He's the Archivist, thanks to you."</p><p>"Then you're welcome," Elias said.   </p><p>"I know you have at least three bullets in that gun, so you might think you can get all three of us," Jon said.</p><p>"Two archivists and an archival assistant.  Spoiled for choice," Gertrude said. She nodded at Martin.</p><p>Martin swiftly punched Elias, knocking him down so he could take his still hidden gun.  Martin held it out to Gertrude, kicking Elias where he lay. "You've definitely earned it," Martin said.  "At the very least, you have seniority.  </p><p>"Martin, you're above this--" Jon started.</p><p>"He might be, but I'm not," Gertrude said. Martin stepped back to be clear out of her line of sight. </p><p>Elias was starting to get up. "Really now," he was starting to say.  "Gertrude, you wouldn't--"</p><p>She pulled the trigger five times, twice after she was out of bullets. She gave the gun back to Martin. "Let's burn it all," she said.</p><p> </p>
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